


Violent Delights, Violent End

by AEAndersen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Multi, but a fun one??, the main character is a psychopath but a relatively considerate one, this is a tragedy I'm not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10020425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEAndersen/pseuds/AEAndersen
Summary: A Force-sensitive woman trades one prison for another and learns the joys and pleasures of the dark side.





	1. Prologue

If Eyla had the chance to rest, it was fitful. She awoke in the damp cold to aching bones or a snarling stomach and lay awake for hours, waiting away the time until her door was opened and breakfast was delivered.

The food was scarcely enough. What meager portions of soup and bread she was given did not serve her well. But to her Master, it was enough. The starvation kept her on edge, kept her quiet and desperate to please.

She needed to be all the above and more. A desperate slave was a good slave. They did anything and everything for their freedom. If they were talented, they were even more useful.

He was sure the woman hadn’t a clue of her own abilities. She had that dull look in her eyes. Something inside her had broken long ago and now she was monotonous, autonomous, working just to live.

It was for the better. If she knew what he suspected, he and his family would probably be dead. Force-users were rare nowadays, but he’d been around long enough. He heard stories of their capabilities. They won wars, brought down foes.

He was her foe. And he wasn’t stupid enough to pretend otherwise. He was, however, stupid enough to doubt what lay behind those frighteningly pale eyes. Bleached honeydew pale, lacking in warmth and compassion and anything human. Twenty years of abuse and that’s what she’d become.

Not that anyone else knew. The guards and the family saw a vessel. A body lacking in soul, a thing that posed no danger and would be disposed of as soon as she no longer exhibited Force sensitive abilities. They thought she would go easily to death.

How wrong they’d be.


	2. Out of the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyla's soulmate is a crystal. Not really. Maybe.
> 
> Here we go, friends! The fun really begins. Forewarning for some pretty harsh abuse.

Eyla was awake. Alive. As aware of herself and her situation as could be. And she’d never stopped thinking about it. Long ago, as a gangly teen, she learned the hard way that resistance was futile. Paid the price in every way her Master deemed fit.

That was a half-decade ago. Before she knew she was different. Which was likely an inaccurate description. She’d known she was different from the time she could grasp the concept of self-awareness.

It wasn’t until she felt this energy, realized she could control it, that she had stopped fighting his abuse. Let them hit her. Let them cut her. It was nothing. She lay awake for hours each night and she practiced with her gift. If she concentrated hard enough, she could hear others. Not necessarily thoughts. But their essence. Their dreams. Hopes. Fears.

If she really concentrated, she could send her own words. It was amusing. She played with her voice, the one in her head, as a means of disguising herself. She aimed to drive the household insane. Other days she did nothing but cast guilt and doubt into their minds. A word here, a whisper there. It was exhausting, true. But it was rewarding to see their fear.

Unfortunately, the most useful of gifts still evaded her control. She couldn’t move so much as a rock out of her way. Small or large, she failed time and time again to master what could free her. She knew that others like her could do it. But she couldn’t.

So she waited. Planned. Worked and slaved away. Waiting for the day she could make her escape. It wasn’t hard. Wake up, eat, work, eat, work, eat, sleep. Repeat. The guards were kind. If ever a member of her Master’s family wasn’t present, they’d give her a little bit of extra food. Water. Rest.

It wasn’t necessary, their gifts. She’d learned to use the foreign energy and expedited her job. With simple movements, she could bound halfway across a cavern. She knew how to increase her stamina and strength, to some degree. It made the job far easier.

Thankfully, she delved into her job alone. She took the most dangerous mines, those that regular workers wouldn’t dare enter. The cramped spaces and falling rocks didn’t bother her anymore. She sensed and avoided them.

Just as she sensed the crystals. Things of all hues. Green, blue, yellow. On occasion, she found different colors. Turquoise, white, purple. She carved them from their home and brought them to her master. From the way he treated them, they were worth a fortune.

This day was unlike all others. She sensed a crystal in the new cave, but it was… different. And somehow comforting, in a cold way. Like a guilty pleasure, she knew the sensation was wrong. But it was attractive, welcoming like nothing else ever was. It drew her on through the darkness.

She left the surface and picked her over stone and under rocks, wiggling and writhing. Many feet down she went, till it was dark, till the shadows negated the light entirely, until she entered a gaping cavern and… she felt it. The sensation, the signature suddenly come alive. It was close. The blonde drew a light stick from her pocket and cracked it, holding it aloft. Nothing. It was hidden behind some rock. No matter. She’d find it.

The sensation, the presence, was almost annoying. It was a hum, low and barely on the edge of her auditory capacity but it was still there and endless. Finding it would end the hum, she was sure of that.  
  
Traipsing about the room, crawling and climbing and sensing, she finally located it. There was a small crevice in the far corner of the room from where she’d entered. She had to lay on her stomach and practically wiggle into the tight spot. The hum was growing unbearable. A drone. It needed to end.  
  
Eyla pawed around in the darkness. The rock here was soft. Volcanic, almost. One spot crumbled away and the result was instant. She felt everything shift in the telltale signs of an avalanche.  
  
In the same moment something tumbled into her hand, almost blinding with its sudden light in this lightless place. It was red as sin, and approximately palm sized. A crystal, humming with life in her palm. She had no time to revel in the find. She wiggled out of the crevice, heart slamming as the world around her began to shake and break.  
  
One rock couldn’t have done this. Impossible. There was too strange an energy in the air for her to believe that pulling one rock free could cause this commotion.  
  
She turned and ran. Climbed, crawled, sprinted. A quarter of a way to the surface the rumbling stopped, and the world seemed to still. Likely, the cavern housing the crystal had collapsed. It didn’t matter. She had what she came for.  
  
The scrawny slave clutched the crystal close and slid to the ground. Her breath fell into an easy rhythm and she took a moment to think. She didn’t want to return to Cynric with this crystal. The very thought made her flinch, turned her green. She wouldn’t dare give this gift up. It belonged to her. She felt that.  
  
The human decided to bury it. Near the entrance, but not close enough that any mundane miner could find it. She’d hide it somewhere only she could reach. And when she was free, she’d come back for the thing.  
  
So onwards she trudged. A few times she stopped to drag a rock against her flesh, wipe some soot onto her cheeks. Anything to support the story she would tell.  
  
A half kilometer from the surface she stopped and clambered onto a formation. Up, up she went, until she was holding to a rock a precarious forty feet above where she once stood. She found a nook and hid the crystal away. Then she swung herself and jumped, landing with nary a thump or stomp.  
  
The trip blurred by. She started to run when she spotted light. Not daylight. Artificial. A figure turned a corner and she froze, raising her hands to block out the bright beam.  
  
“I found her!” The Mandalorian overseer turned to the woman, a grimace on his cheeks. He grabbed the her by the arm and pulled her along, muttering. They thought she was dead, they’d been calling her name for hours, and of course…  
  
Cor held her face in his hands and brought her close, brows furrowed into a deep line as he spoke, enunciating every word. “Did you find anything?”  
  
As well as she could in his grip, Eyla shook her head.  
  
The result was instant. He gripped her shoulder and slammed her sideways, into the side of the roughly hewn tunnel walls. He snarled a curse and looked away, furious.  
  
“We lost equipment in that collapse! Men! Wherever the hell you were, it was right below another camp. What do you think Cynic will say if I have nothing to claim for the loss?”  
  
She looked up from the ground, unbothered. Probably the usual misogynistic, demeaning, mindless crap he always spat. It didn’t matter. And yeah, he’d probably hit her. Oh well. That was no different.  
  
She was valuable, and therefore would not die. That was all that mattered.  
  
All other pain was insignificant. She no longer felt it.  
  
She clambered to her feet and followed the man back to the surface. A few others joined the procession. A defeated looking Weequay, a shuffling Mirialan. Fellow miners. Long broken, long hollowed souls. She wanted to laugh in their presence. At least they had freedom. Yes, their employment was practically coercion. But they had their own homes, food, the will to leave if they wanted to. Cynric wouldn’t chase such small people down.  
  
With a disdainful glare, the woman eyed the device around her ankle. It was simple, but cruel. If it were taken off without the proper coding, it would bisect her lower foot from her calf. She’d bleed out in seconds.  
  
The man was waiting for them at the surface, as she’d predicted. His small, dark eyes bore into her and he marched up to her, striking her across the face despite the five inches or so she had over him.  
“I lost men over this! Their families will come to my gate with pitchforks! You better hope the Hutts can quell this,” he griped lowly. “Did you even find a crystal?”  
  
She gave an apprehensive stare, muttering, “Lost it because of the cave in.”  
  
As expected, he struck her again. This time, his fist met her upper chest and she gasped, crumpling to her knees. The pain wasn’t as bad as the sudden lack of breath and vertigo that encapsulated her. Windless but still determined not to lose this battle, she tried to stand. A boot filled her vision. Then stars. Her chest heaved as her body begged for breath. It would not come.  
  
He was roaring, a tornado as he marched to and fro, the green of his cape billowing in the wind. His words were faint to the small thing on the ground, whose cheeks were painted with tears. Little tracks of salty water rolled over the ash and soot and dirt on her marred flesh and plopped to the ground, silent over his screams.  
  
“The Empire requested this shipment. It was a rush, they are so desperate for one more blasted piece of Kyber. I had faith you could find it. A week would have been sufficient to find one more crystal… if I had my men and equipment. Now, I’ll have to find more of both. Do you think they’ll get their order in time?”  
  
The blonde smiled through the agony, through the breathlessness and fury. “Nope.”  
  
Because the Empire didn’t forgive. Part of her was insightful enough to realize he’d probably been dealing with them for a while- who else would pay so well? So maybe they’d let him off somewhat easy. Or maybe he hadn’t yet established himself as a dealer, and they’d hurt him. Any number of things could occur, really. She was hoping (and willing) for anything that ended with his head in a bucket.  
  
He responded with a boot to her chest. Over and over. The world began to fade out. Blood dripped from her lips, and from amongst the coughing came a pealing laugh, devoid of any positive inclinations. As unconsciousness drew its curtain, Eyla had time enough to see one last thing that stopped the laugh short.  
  
The Weequay, the Mirialan, and more, were returning to the mines. They would look for what she’d lost.  
  
And maybe, with so many going along, they’d find it.  
  
Then all was black.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm Alex, and I'll be your host for this feelsy, violent ride. I hope you'll enjoy it!


End file.
